Tag Archives: sweat

B/W image of the back and ass of woman 's body on ground, damp; Artem Furman ©123RF.com

Earth

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EARTH
by
Jade A. Waters

We lie here, together
One with this earth
Bodies writhing,
Chests pressed
Arms stretching in soil,
We seek to grab anything,
Clawing into ground.
Muddied and sore,
Our fingers lace, tight—
Mine are yours
Yours are mine
And your kisses
Take my cheeks, my lips,
Shocking like raindrops
That tumble down from
The murky sky.

As we fuck, the dirt
Spreads, surrounds,
Hugs the grind of our hips
The arch of my back,
The dig of my heels
On this sandy shore.
Ours are desperate groans
That sway and hum;
They are the sweep of waves
Filling the universe
With an infinite, noisy lust.
For this, we press on,
Our hunger that of the dirtied—
Wanting, bearing down;
Together in this soil
We are one.

There is a tremor
Earth-shattering
A cry that fills our ears,
Rattles our souls
And we shudder in this caress.
This is closeness,
Us
But our need is harder,
Heavier,
Sweaty and raw
We are lost
In this feral clutch,
Longing to be closer
To be deeper, and part
Of the very earth
On which we grind.

*

Couple in bed, man pinning her down, hair covering faces

Monday

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MONDAY
by
Jade A. Waters

It’s Monday
So I know you know
What that statement means:
The blare of alarm
The blinding sun
Oh fuck me
Time for work.
But what you don’t know
As I’m stretching out
Trying to wake myself up
In a jumble of sheets I
Somehow wrapped around my limbs,
Is what happens next
On this particular Monday

Which is rather spectacular.

You see
That alarm makes its shrieking sound
And I slap it with a grunt,
But then Maxwell slithers up behind me.
He buries his lips
In the crook of my neck
And despite the tangle of the sheets,
He’s found his way in
Hard cock against my ass
As his fingers find my clit,
And I know in about
Five seconds
That this Monday isn’t going to be
Like that.

Also, that I won’t need coffee.

“Happy Monday, baby,” he says,
Fingers massaging my swollen clit
Before he slips them down and inside of me.
“Mmmm,” he says,
As he props himself up,
Sweeps aside my hair
And bites the back of my neck.
“Hi,” I murmur,
Because he’s thrusting fingers in and out
Cock rolling up against them
From his position behind me,
And I wonder how the sun
Can be so painfully blinding
But the ache in me so good.

Maxwell knows what he wants on a Monday

So he gathers my hair in his hand
And tugs it, hard
While he bites my neck again
And shoves his cock inside.
I’m awake, so awake,
He’s buried to the hilt
Just listening to me breathe.
“Good morning,” he says.
I arch back my hips
Because words are lost on me right now.
He sweeps fingers over my clit
And then he starts to move
Really move
Driving hard and deep.

Pleasure hits me brighter than the sun.

I whimper when I come
And Maxwell holds me tight
Fucking me so hard
It’s as if he’s been away for years,
Though he’s been in my bed all night.
I wish I could describe
How hard I’m shaking
When he thrusts in,
Groans
And fills me with his heat.
It’s the best kind of caffeine,
Revving us both up
As we lay here,
Panting.

I’d tell you I hate Mondays but I’d be lying

Because we stay there for a while
His fingers sliding up my stomach
Lightly stroking my skin
Teasing my nipples,
His kisses playing over my neck
While the juices of our Monday morning
Slip out of me and over us,
Just before the snooze alarm
Starts to scream.
Maxwell leans over me,
Turns it off,
Runs his hand along my side
And plants a kiss on my cheek,
Then says again,
“Happy Monday.”

And I’ll tell you—yes it is, indeed.

*

The Match

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THE MATCH
by
Jade A. Waters

“There's something about the sweat of a woman,” he says.
I'm not sure what to think.
I mean, I'm standing here
Naked
The steam so suffocating I'm remembering
How hard it can be to breathe through my once-broken nose.
Beads of sweat—
No,
Rivulets of sweat
Curl down my sides,
Curving under my breasts
Racing down the hard lines of my abs
Slowing when they hit the subtle rise of trimmed curls
He exposed
When he yanked my boy shorts down to my ankles just a minute ago.

“You think I'm kidding?”
“I don't—”
I bite my lip.
That’s just it.
I don't.
Then again, it's hard to think with him breathing in my ear
No,
Panting.
His exhalations are still a little wild from
Our match not ten minutes before,
And when he licks the smooth line of my neck
I arch back in protest.
I always fight—
But just a little.

Danny grabs onto my hips.
The move is so sudden I jerk,
My breasts smashing against the punching bag.
(See, he didn't leave me much leeway when he cuffed me
To the chains that hold this thing in place—
And I'd tell you I mind,
But I don't.)
He digs his fingers into jutting bones,
Rubs his cock against my firm ass
Catches the lobe of my ear between his teeth
And groans when I squirm
Like I wanna fight.
Danny responds by slipping his fingers down,
Pinching my clit,
Sliding that cock right where he needs to be—
Where I need him to be—
And then he gasps again,
As if he’s surprised to find me so wet.

Every time we spar
I get like this.
I’ve been training far longer than him
So he doesn’t mind me pinning him on the mat
Straddling him with my aching thighs
Grinding my pussy against him
And shoving my elbow into his chest
When I whisper,
“I win. Again.”
He leisurely smiles.
I think that’s because the moment it’s over—
My victory, done—
I surrender.
I’ll let Danny take my wrists
Tie them somewhere
Anywhere, really
Like now, cuffed up to this heavy bag
That smells like my sweat and plastic.

“Well?” he asks.
“Well, what?”
The head of his cock is just inside the rim of my cunt
And he’s teasing me
Taunting me
Spurring me on even more
Than the fans chanting outside the ring during my matches.
Danny knows how much this gets me
So he thrusts slowly
Making me moan.
Fuck me.
He feels so good
That when he sinks deeper
I don’t even care that my mouth
Is on the bag
That my cries
Are falling from my lips louder than the bell
That signals my wins.

“Like that?” he says.
That is all guttural moan and a puff of air,
And to remind me how much I want it
He pumps again. Then once more.
“Fuck, yes, Danny.”
“Yeah? You surrender?”
“Yes!”
He drives in so deep
All I can think
Is that I’m sweaty
That he’s sweaty
That holy fuck
He feels so good.
He wraps his arms around the bag and me both
Closing me between two things I love
Biting at the side of my chin
As he fucks me
Hard
Fast
And sweaty like we like it.

It doesn’t take long
Of course—
Me cuffed up to that bag
Danny all the way inside me
The smell of sweat and lust
And so many fights
On the training mat
Surrounding us as we go
For this one more match
Before our shower.

But this time
We both win.

*

BW toned image of Man kissing woman on her neck while she is above him

Power

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POWER
by
Jade A. Waters

They met as one—
Two bodies pounding against each other
Forcing themselves together
In a grinding of
Sweat and pulsating,
Their bodies rippling
And slamming
Like two pieces of metal
Crushing anything in their way.
The gasps that echoed
Through the room
Seemed to mimic the thrusts
Of his body into hers
And the eagerness with which
She shoved herself
Right back against him.
They rolled around like this—
Two bodies of power
Two figures of energy
That broke through the chasm between them
And met furiously
In a collision
Of sheer enormity,
Their moans loud and continuous
Their bodies beating,
Slapping
Until they collapsed
Like two fallen heroes
Upon the sheets.

*